


A Change of Fate

by The_Writer_Of_Many_Things



Category: Mary Poppins (1964)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Writer_Of_Many_Things/pseuds/The_Writer_Of_Many_Things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Mary Poppins before she became nanny to the Banks children? A prequel based partially off of the movie but primarily the Broadway musical.<br/>Special thanks to starlordsdickmessage.tumblr.com for being my beta reader!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mary Lawrence was completely and utterly done with dances and dresses and music and most especially rude men. She had managed to escape the ball by sneaking out the back way and climbing over the fence, a move that had caused her to rip the petticoat of her new lavender dress. Cecilia was sure to give her a stern talking to when she found out, but Mary refused to let that dampen her mood. She had managed to break free of that awful, stuffy place for a bit, and she no longer had to dance with that snobbish Alphonse Redmayne. Alphonse, who was so sure of his charm with the ladies but had two left feet, and loved to talk about nothing except his own adventures and accomplishments…

Too often Mary grew tired of the required social gatherings that occurred in London and the necessity of dressing up and socializing, when really all it meant for women her age was smiling at everyone and dancing with handsome men so that they might be married off and become someone else’s responsibility. Mary was truly a simple young lady, who would not mind socializing as much if it provided equal opportunities for women to discuss their theories and opinions. Her father was no better than any of the young men who attended such balls; one could not speak for more than a few seconds before they were ushered along and the topic changed.

Additionally, her father insisted on them attending such events, even though he knew Mary hated them and he himself did nothing but stand at the back of the room, possibly talking to a business associate; never dancing, barely drinking, always glaring. She would never understand why he continued to torture himself, as grand balls and parties reminded him so much of her mother, gone six years from an illness. Such merriment was only a chance to drive the knife deeper into his heart, and he would always become even more distant after each party, a feat Mary did not think possible.

Mary was absorbed in these thoughts as she ran down the dark streets of London. The clock had already struck midnight, so anyone who was not attending a party had long since retired, but those inside the ball would likely not emerge for at least another two hours. Thus Mary Lawrence was quite shocked when she ran full force into another person as she rounded the corner.

Thankfully, her heels had prevented her from running too fast, so both she and the other person managed to remain standing after the impact. As she righted herself, she opened her mouth to apologize to the other person, but stopped short as she saw the brightest pair of blue eyes staring directly at her. Mary was not one to be startled by the looks of either gender, but this young man’s eyes were a blue that was both gorgeous and eerie in a way that she could not quite put her finger on.

“Oi, sorry, miss! That was almost a nasty spill, eh? ‘ope you’re all right?” he said, tipping the brim of his hat towards her and smiling.

“Oh, that’s quite all right, sir! Thank you for your concern!” She began to push past the stranger, hoping to continue putting distance between herself and the party.

Before she could get very far, the young man called after her. “If you don’t mind me, askin’, ma’am, where are you runnin’ oft ta in such a hurry? Everythin’ all right? Need any help?”

Mary turned back around to face him, and saw him looking truly concerned. “Oh, no, I’m quite all right, thank you! I’ve simply removed myself from a social gathering of the most boring sort and wish to escape quickly.”

A grin broke out on his face as he heard her complaint. “Ah, escapin’ a party, eh? I was jus’ headin’ ta one meself. How’s about you join me? I’d be honored to have such a lovely young lady as you as me escort!” He promptly scooped his hat off of his head and gave a low bow.

Although Mary couldn’t help but laugh just a bit, she said, “Your offer is kind, but I’m not entirely sure I should be going to a party with someone I just met on the street.”

The boy’s eyes lit up as he straightened up out of the bow and placed his hat back on his head firmly. “Well, you has a point there, miss… Tell you what, how’s about I challenge you to a game, and if you win three times, you can head off to wherever you was headin’ before. But if I beat you three times, you owes me a dance. What do a say??”

Shaking head and giggling, Mary said, “Oh, I suppose, since you insist. What game did you have in mind?”

The young man pranced over to the edge of an alleyway and pulled out a table with three mismatched cups on top. “Ever played ‘Follow the Lady’? Well, this be jus’ the same, ‘cept you follow this ‘ere ball under one ‘o these cups.” He lifted the left cup to reveal a small red ball, but quickly placed it back down. “Do ya feel up to it, miss?”

Delighted, Mary nodded at him. She loved to play games like this and was quite excellent at them, having played them numerous times with her friend Hannah. As he began to shift the cups around, she careful followed the cup with her eyes. He started out slowly, but began to speed up, until she could barely follow his hands. Right, left, center, left , center, right…. The cups glided across the surface of the table as if skating on ice. Then without warning, he stopped and looked inquisitively at her, inviting her to guess which cup contained the ball.

Although it had been difficult, she knew that she had him and proudly pointed to the middle cup. The boy slowly raised the middle cup to reveal… nothing. She looked up at him, shocked, and saw the biggest smirk she had ever seen spread across his face.

“Impossible! I watched it carefully and there is no way it could be under any cup but the middle one!”

“Are ya sure, ma’am?” he said, as he picked up the cup on the right to reveal the elusive red ball. “It is awful late. Perhaps you’re jus’ tired? Could ‘appen ta anyone, really. Care ta go again?”

“Yes, of course! Try it again and let us see!” cried Mary furiously. She followed his every movement as he began to move the cups back and forth, carefully watching to see if he used sleight of hand to slip the ball out at any point. Abruptly the cups stopped moving back and forth again, and Mary did not hesitate.

“There!” she yelled, pointing to the center cup. No sooner had she said it then the cup was taken away and the table underneath was revealed to be empty.

“How! How is it possible?!” He pulled up the left cup to reveal the ball underneath. “Again, keep going!” she said furiously, and he resumed his whirling of hands and cups. Mary poured all of her concentration into following the movement of this particular cup. All sound seemed to be nonexistent, and only what was in front her mattered. She was almost seasick watching the flowing movement of the objects on the table, but she knew she must catch it this time, or she would be driven mad.

Finally, the hands came to a rest and she pointed triumphantly to the cup on the left. “Sorry, miss,” he said, as he lifted the cup to reveal… the red ball!

“Sorry? What do you mean sorry?” she asked, thrown off by his cocky grin. “The ball is right there, I’m not going to your dance just yet!”

The boy’s grin faltered for a second, but he continued cheerfully. “I ‘ave no clue what you’re talkin’ about, miss. No ball under this cup!” He then proceeded to lift up the center cup to reveal nothing.

“I don’t understand what you’re on about, the ball is clearly under the left cup! I’m not sure who you think you’re fooling but I can see the bright red ball plainly with my eyes, so don’t try any nonsense!” She crossed her arms and stared haughtily at the young man standing across from her.

As she looked at him, gaze unwavering, she saw his face slowly drain of color. “You mean, you can actually see the ball right there? It’s not under the center cup at all??”

“Why, yes, of course! Where else could it be? I don’t understand what you’re so surprised for!”

The young man quickly put the table and cups back into the alleyway where he had got them from, and looked around the street.

“What are you doing? That wasn’t three wins for either of us!” Mary said, growing more and more confused by the minute.

“Pardon me, miss. What would be your name?” he asked, in such a tone that she could tell he was quite shaken.

“It’s Mary, Mary Lawrence. But what on Earth is the matter?”

Tipping his hat, he said, “Nice ta meet you, Mary. Name’s Bert, and I know I promised you three wins, but I’m afraid I need you ta come with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to that-insane-shipper-girl.tumblr.com and starlordsdickmessage.tumblr.com for being beta readers for me!! ILY!

Bert had no sooner finished his sentence than he had grasped her hand and taken off running. Mary did her best to keep up with him, lest he tear her arm off. These bloody heels that women were expected to wear were utterly ridiculous, for dancing or any practical activity, much less for running in. She stumbled once, but Bert stopped to make sure she was alright before dashing off again.

The two soon came to an old building in the part of town that those who were less fortunate resided in. Mary could hear the sound of music from inside, mixed with various loud voices cheering and singing along with the fiddle. Although she was still concerned over Bert and his sudden insistence that she come here, she felt somewhat at ease looking at the building which seemed to house such liveliness.

As the two entered the building, Mary’s senses were overwhelmed. She saw instantly that this party was nothing like the social gatherings of the class she belonged too, and she quite liked it. There were people of all ages, from little girls falling asleep in their mothers’ laps to old men exchanging war stories and blowing smoke rings in the corner. Several trays of food and a hefty barrel of what Mary presumed to be ale were against the wall to the right of the door. Numerous tables and benches were scattered about, leaving a large, empty circle in the center for people to dance. The general air was cheerful and carefree, quite unlike anything Mary had witnessed in her life.

As soon as they crossed the threshold of the door, Bert jumped onto the nearest table and began yelling and waving his arms. The noise faded quickly as the musicians ceased playing, and those in the middle of a conversation paused to look at the young man.

“Ladies an’ gents! ‘ullo! ‘ope you’re ‘aving a great time! This ‘ere is my friend Mary! You see, Mary is from a different part ‘o town, and doesn’t know ‘ow we do things ‘ere. So I need you all to make sure she ‘as a nice time tonight! Well, go on, then, show ‘er around!”

Immediately a swarm of boys and girls, all about Mary’s age or younger, swarmed her and pushed her to the center of the room. The band started back up, playing even more energetically than before. Mary found herself being spun around by various dance partners so quickly she could feel herself beginning to get sick. Tripping over her own feet, she fell into the arms of a young woman with dark skin and beautiful black hair, and a sun-tanned man with large arms and a brown beard.

“Aye, lass, ‘ow’s about a nice meat pie?” the big man said, offering her a delicious looking pastry. “We don’ get ‘em very often, we save ‘em for special occasions like these ‘ere parties.”

“Besides, you’re our guest. We would feed you our best even if it wasn’t a special occasion, right, James??” The lady reached for Mary’s hand (the one not preoccupied with the meat pie) and brought her over to a cluster of chairs. All three of them sat down, with James and the lady flanking Mary.

“I suppose you are right, Minnie. Pardon me, I forgot me manners for a bit.” James chuckled and winked at Minnie.

With a laughter that sounded like music to Mary’s ears, Minnie said, “Don’t worry, James. I’ll teach you yet. Now, Mary, right? Mary, tell me about yourself. Who are you, what are you doing here?” When Minnie said “here”, she looked deliberately at Mary’s clothes, indicating that she knew Mary was from the upper class and was curious as to why someone of her stature would be here with the poor.

“Oh, well, my name is Mary Lawrence. My father is a banker, and he had a social gathering tonight, which I attended as well, and… Well, I got sick of everything and left and then I ran into Bert who decided he needed to bring me here for some reason and… I don’t know, now I’m here! I must say, you throw a much better party than those ridiculous people at my father’s ball!” As soon as she finished the sentence, Mary took a large bite out of the pie, which turned out to be the warmest, juiciest thing she’d ever eaten. The crust reminded her of her mother’s old recipe, quite flaky and buttery. Why couldn’t she eat like this every day?

James looked at Minnie with a questioning face. “Now, why on earth would Bert wanta bring a lady like you ‘ere so desp’rately? Besides yer looks, I mean. ‘e’s got to ‘ave a better reason than that if he wanted ta get ya ‘ere so badly.”

Mary swallowed the bite she had taken. “Why, I honestly don’t know. We were playing his little game, a Follow the Lady sort of thing, when he grew quite distressed and insisted I come here immediately. I’m rather as confused as you are. Where did Bert run off to??”

It was hard to see through the large number of people dancing, but Mary eventually found him in the back corner of the room. He was talking to a woman, perhaps in her fifties. Her skin was pale, with soft wrinkles that showed the laughter and pain that had crossed her face in all the decades of her life. What might have once been beautiful golden hair was now faded to a grey, but these signs of age only made the woman radiate with wisdom. The look on Bert’s face was one of love and reverence for her.

Minnie stiffened next to her. “James, he’s talking to Clara. Do you think…?”

“Oh! That would probably be the case, then. We’ll ‘afta see what ‘e says. Looks like ‘e’s getting’ up to come fetch the young lass.” James rose and offered Mary his hand so that she could stand.

“Here, love, let me take that.” Minnie placed Mary’s pie on the table next to them. Mary must have unconsciously given a worried look, because next thing she knew, Minnie was using that laugh again. “Don’t worry, dear! It will be here when you come back! I won’t let anyone else eat it.”

Mary smiled and said, “Thank you, Minnie. You and James are very kind.”

“Ah, that’s just our ‘ospitality there!” James said, with an enormous belly laugh.

When Bert reached them, he greeted James with a cheerful hug and kissed Minnie’s hand. “Lovely ta see the two of ya! Thank ya for takin’ care of Mary ‘ere. I’m goin’ ta ‘ave ‘er chat wi’ Auntie Clara for a bit, but I’ll ‘ave ‘er back at the party in no time!” He offered Mary his arm, and she gladly accepted.

When they reached the far corner of the room, Bert gestured to the woman and said, “Miss Lawrence, right? Miss Lawrence, this ‘ere is me Auntie Clara. Auntie Clara, this is the lovely Mary Lawrence I was just tellin’ ya about.”

Curtsying, Mary said “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Clara.”

Clara waved her hand and said, “Ooh, darling , ya don’t hafta worry about the Miss an’ all that formality. Call me Clara, or even Auntie Clara, if ya like. I’m Aunt to near everyone here, whether I really am or not.”

“Thank you, Auntie Clara.” Mary smiled at her and sat down in the chair Bert had brought for her.

“Now dearie, are you aware of what you’ve been brought here for??” She looked pointedly at Bert, almost as if chastising him for not explaining the situation to Mary already.

“Well, not really. I was playing a game with Bert and he just insisted I come here immediately. Why am I here?”

Clara looked straight into Mary’s eyes and asked, “Mary, when ya saw the ball that last time ya were playin’ the game with Bert, what were ya doin’? Anythin’ unusual?”

Mary looked uncertainly between Clara’s curious face and Bert’s encouraging smile. “Well, um, I was… Let’s see, I was rather frustrated because I was certain that I had picked the right one, so the next round, I focused particularly hard on following the cup that had the ball inside it. Once I had picked the right cup, he denied that it was there and then seemed astonished once I insisted that it was. Then he insisted that I come here. Can you tell me what exactly is happening? Please?”

Clara grabbed her hand reassuringly. “I’ll explain what I can in just a mo’, dear. But first, I need ya ta do somethin’ for me. Can ya look at this table an’ tell me if ya see anything?”

Mary glanced at the small table that was located to the right of Clara’s chair. It was clearly blank, not even a candle on it. “No, there’s nothing there.”

“Look again. Really concentrate, like ya did when ya were playin’ Bert’s game.” She pointed again to the table, and Mary took a second look.

Still nothing. But she knew somehow that she should concentrate, just like Clara had told her. Clenching her fists and narrowing her eyes, Mary poured every bit of her energy into focusing on the table, trying to see something that anyone else would simply say was not there. There was something inside her that told her she needed to do this; she didn’t know why, she just knew this was vitally important to her very being.

For what seemed like nearly an hour, she focused on the table before her. She was ready to give up and tell Clara that there was simply nothing on the table when something began to fade into view. It was a bright red colour, roughly the size of her fist, with a…

“Oh! It’s an apple!” she exclaimed in shock, causing the apple to vanish as quickly as it had popped into view. “Why was there an invisible apple on the table?? What’s happening? Am I going mad??”

Bert grinned at Clara. “See, Auntie? I told ya she was good.”

“Good at what? Will you two please just tell me what exactly is happening here?” Mary stood up to make her point. She was becoming genuinely worried that the sudden appearance of the apple meant she was going insane.

“Well, dear,” Clara said, “I’m not sure how ta put this any better, but we think ya might have a bit ‘o magic in ya.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you again to my beta reader, saxonsfierytemper.tumblr.com!

After getting over the initial shock from the words that came out of Auntie Clara’s mouth, Mary quickly glanced back and forth between Bert and Clara before bursting into laughter. “Oh, I see!!” She laughed. “You both had me convinced for a moment that I was going insane! Magic? Oh my, you two are quite mischievous, aren’t you?” Her momentary fit of giggles ceased quickly however, as she noticed the look that the two exchanged. “What, is something wrong?” she asked, beginning to grow concerned.

Auntie Clara reached over and clutched Mary’s hand. “Darlin’, I know this isn’t somethin’ that’s easy ta ‘ear, but I need ya ta listen ta me carefully. The reason ya where able ta see that apple jus’ now and the ball earlier was because ya ‘ave magic. I know it’s-“ she started to say, before Mary interrupted her sentence.

“Oh, no! I’ve seen street artists like you two before. Street magicians, con artists. No no no, this is just another one of your tricks. A sleight of hand, if you will.” Mary started to pull her hand away but became alarmed when Clara grasped onto it even harder.

The urgency in the old woman’s eyes sent a shiver down Mary’s spine. “Mary, I know this is something’ very strange for ya ta accept, but magic isn’t simply somethin’ we joke about. I’m sure it’s quite a messy concept for ya ta get in your ‘ead, but I ‘ave no reason to lie ta ya.”

What could only be described as a nervous laugh escaped from Mary’s throat as she forcefully wrenched her hand away from Clara’s grasp. “No, I don’t think you understand. I don’t believe you in the slightest. Honestly, I’m not sure what I was thinking, following Bert and coming here tonight. That was incredibly dangerous and stupid. You have all been wonderful hosts but I really must be getting home. Please excuse me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Mary leapt up from her chair and rushed through the building. She thought she heard a cacophonous noise from the band as she exited, perhaps with a strangled “Wait!” coming from Minnie, but she paid no heed to the sounds behind her. As she burst through the door, she gathered her skirts in her arms as best as she could and began to run, for fear that if she stayed any longer near the building she would be kidnapped by these insane people, or something equally as horrifying.

She had just made it about ten meters away from the building when she heard Bert’s voice screaming her name at the top of his lungs. Mary ran a ways further, contemplating the possibility of refusing to hear him out, before she slowed to a stop with a gasp for breath. Turning around, she said, “No matter what you say, Bert, I won’t change my mind.”

As he caught up to her, he waved the small bundle that he was holding at her. “ ‘ere, Minnie refused ta let ya leave without this meat pie ‘o yours that ya seemed ta like so well.” Gingerly, she took the pie, which was covered in a cloth to keep it safe.

“Thank you,” she said meekly, unwrapping the bundle a bit to take a small bite out of the delicious meal. “But as I said, I am not changing my mind in the slightest. I don’t care what you have to say.” The warm meat filled her mouth and she chewed slowly as she listened to the young man’s response to her statement.

Giving her almost a smirk, he said, “I understand, Miss. I was the same way when I was told it. But whether ya choose ta accept this or not is not what I’m ‘ere for right now. It’s awful late, an’ I thought ya might like ta ‘ave an escort with ya as ya ‘ead ‘ome.” His strange half-smile was replaced with a genuine look of concern for her.

Mary realized suddenly that she had made an extremely brash decision by running away during that party. She had stealthily escaped from her own house to wander the streets of London many times before, but they had always been during the day. As a woman, running around by one’s self was ill-advised and extremely dangerous at any time of the day, much less at night. Despite how insane she might have thought Clara and Bert to be with their “magic” charade, she realized that she was probably quite fortunate to have run into Bert before anyone who truly wished her harm had caught her. Despite the strange feelings she had in the party, she could tell by looking at him he truly meant no harm to her.

Nodding, she said, “Thank you Bert, I greatly appreciate it.” A grin broke out across his face and he extended his arm to her. With her meat pie in one hand and Bert’s arm in the other, she began to walk back to her home.

The walk back to her estate was relatively lacking in conversation; mostly just Mary directing Bert on where to go. She thought he could tell that she was still tense over the whole encounter and had decided not to push the issue with her. When he did say something, it was just an off-hand comment, like asking her if she ever bought wares from the lady at that street corner or pointing out his favorite constellation. Contemplating it, she found that he had an effortless charm that made people around him relaxed. He was the kind of gentleman that she had heard her father make mention of before, the kind of man that would find a beautiful flower and give it to a little girl on the street in passing, that other men would tip their hat to, that older ladies would stop for to let him pet her dog, and that would perform a little magic trick for any young boy he thought might be looking a little blue. Bert had that aura about him, although Mary wasn’t quite sure if he was aware of it or not.

As they neared her house, she directed him towards the side of the estate, where a large tree grew next to the wall. She said “I greatly appreciate you walking me home, Bert. It’s been a great comfort having someone along.” She handed back the grease-stained cloth that had held her pie. “I hope you will understand why I left tonight. Perhaps it was an overreaction but I think if you can understand where I’m coming from. I did have pleasant time though.”

He gave a bow before responding. “It was my pleasure, Miss. I ‘ope we didn’t scare ya too badly. Auntie Clara is a nice lady. If ya ever change your mind, I’m in the park ‘most every day, if ya’d like ta come visit. Goodnight, Mary Lawrence.” He nodded at her once more before heading back off the way they had come.

Mary had climbed over the wall using the tree numerous times before, in a dress and heels even, but never in a ball gown with layers of petticoats. As she attempted to descend into the garden of her estate, the part of her petticoat that had ripped during her earlier escape got caught and almost caused her to fall to the ground. She quickly caught herself however, and proceeded to untangle her dress from the branched before slowly lowering herself down using the branches that hung over into the Lawrence garden.

Rushing over to the side door that the servants used, Mary quickly slipped inside without a noise. She wound her way through the house and up the side stairwell, and had almost reached her bedroom when she heard the familiar squeaking noise of her maid Cecilia’s door. “Miss Lawrence, is that you?” she heard from down the hallway.

Silently cursing her luck, she whispered, “Yes, Cecilia. Sorry I am so late. I don’t need any help getting undressed, you can go back to bed.” Mary thought she was free but quickly realized she would have to fight her way out of this one, as she saw a faint light appear from Cecilia’s candle and move towards her.

“Oh, but your father was worried sick about you! We should inform him that you’re all right and home safe.” The candlelight bounced off of her silver hair and eyes in a way that almost made her seem ghostly.

“Dear me, I’m sure that’s not necessary. He’s probably fast asleep, we don’t need to wake him. You can just tell him in the morning.”

“Tell me what?” came a booming voice from behind her. The imposing figure of her father appeared, with the small flame casting shadows on his face that made his glare seem even more intimidating than it already was. Mary loved her father, but their tense relationship kept things constantly on edge between them.

“Sir, we were just going to tell you that she’d arrived home safely. We knew you were worried. Nothing to fret over anymore!” Mary felt a rush of gratitude towards Cecilia for her attempt at settling things before they blew up. She knew it was a fruitless effort, however, and braced herself for what was to come.

“Well, that’s all pleasant and jovial now, isn’t that?” he asked, and Mary and Cecilia both involuntarily tensed up from the tone in his voice. “But perhaps what I’m not so worried about you coming back as I am about the fact that you left in the first place? Why did you leave the party, Mary? Do you know what people were saying about you when they couldn’t find you? Everyone was gossiping! People were asking me left and right where you were, especially the eldest Redmayne boy. I had to tell them all that you’d gone home early because you were feeling ill! And what on earth did you do to your dress?” he said, noticing the dirt on the bottom and the ripped petticoat peeking out from under the skirt.

“That’s nothing, Mister Lawrence, I can fix that in a jiffy!” Cecilia interjected. She had a hopeful look on her face, as if her brushing off the dress would fix everything.

“Thank you, Cecilia. Goodnight,” Edward Lawrence said firmly. Cecilia took the cue, bowed, muttered something that sounded like “Yessir”, and retreated to her room with a last pitying look at her young mistress. Now there was nothing standing between Mary and her father.

“Father, I’m sorry I left, I had to! There were so many people! I have never seen so many people!” This was a blatant lie, but her father had no idea about her forbidden adventures into the London marketplace. “I was overwhelmed and exhausted. Maybe if you let me out more I would be used to the crowds…”

“Not this again,” her father said sternly. This was a point of contention between the two parties; Edward believed that the best way for a young woman to be educated was to stay at home with her tutor, and that she should feel privileged that she was born into so wealthy of a family, as she would likely never be educated otherwise. Mary, on the other hand, desired to learn by getting out there and learning through experience. Her father felt that it was too dangerous and impractical for young women to go out in public in their formative years. Since she was now eighteen and of age to make a decent match in marriage, he had eased up on this rule, but most of her outings tended to be strictly social gatherings and parties like today, where she could meet eligible young bachelors. Obviously, this was not what Mary had in mind with her outings.

Tired and hoping to avoid the endless circle of fights that she always seemed to be embroiled in with him, she decided to accept defeat this time. “I’m sorry, father. You’re right, I should not have run. I was simply attempting to get away from an unfamiliar situation and I got carried away. This will not be something I repeat. Please forgive me.” She lowered her head so that her chin touched her chest, a gesture that she hated because it showed surrender, but it was one that Mary knew would win her father over.

Sighing, Edward said, “This once I will let it pass. However, you will not be allowed to leave the house for the remainder of the month, not even for the picnic with Elizabeth. You must learn to behave and obey my rules. You may now go to bed.” Without another word, he turned and walked down the hall to his own quarters.

As she slipped into her room, Mary began to cry from frustration and sadness. She would never understand why her father was so unfair, why he couldn’t understand her and her desire to see the world. Perhaps it was because she was similar to her mom in that aspect, and since he had already lost his wife six years ago, perhaps he harbored some fear that if mother and daughter led such similar lives he would lose Mary too. No matter the cause, the Lawrences seemed to be eternally at odds.

As she unlaced her corset by herself, a difficult task she had learned to do out of sheer stubbornness, Mary contemplated the fact that she’d have to send a messenger to her friend’s estate tomorrow saying that she could no longer partake in the picnic that they’d planned for next week. Elizabeth understood Mary better than her father, but being naturally more timid, what she couldn’t understand was how Mary constantly kept challenging Mr. Lawrence. Elizabeth was some sort of middle ground between Mary and Edward at times; whenever she was around, there was often peace and laughter in the house for a while. That would be the plus side of cancelling the picnic, Elizabeth would likely offer to come to the Lawrence estate for the picnic instead, which meant that there would be at least one pleasant day out of the next twenty four that Mary was confined to the premises.

Slipping into her bed, Mary’s thoughts drifted back to Bert and Clara. She couldn’t help but wonder whether they were crazy or if there was truly something to this magic thing. She focused on her perfume bottle that was sitting on the vanity, attempting to make it disappear. However, her eyelids felt so heavy that she gave up on the experiment and drifted off to sleep, without noticing that the object had briefly flickered out of existence for nearly three seconds before reappearing on the other side of the dresser.


End file.
